


You're a Wizard, Eri

by MacaroniSwirls (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: CROSSOVER!!!!1, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MacaroniSwirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A last minute intervention by Doctor Scratch lands a troll in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lame-o Eri Potter fic BECAUSE I CAN

It wasn't so much the dying he remembered.

No, he remembered that. Dying tends to be one of those graphic things that stick in your memory. Dying was something that was supposed to happen once-

The first last few moments had been a painful end - three limbs torn off by a satan dog and a pool of purple pooling around his torso and the sea of green that was breaking apart the sky.

But wait no, in sgrub, the laws of science are spat upon and you get an extra life! No glubbing respect for science in this game. Here, you get to die twice-

The second time was quick, at least. It was unexpected, but quick. A chainsaw through the gut, a pool of purple pooling around split ends and a flash of white science overtaking his view.

The thing was, it should've at least been over. He would've taken his little bitch death and then have been more than happy to gallant around in the afterlife. Nope.

When the white light cleared and he could see again, he only heard a whisper of highlighted text – "Mister Ampora, I'm afraid there are still more plans for you" – and when he woke up, he was simply alive and despite the major repairs on his torso there was still cuts and there was still blood and he was still screaming and only in the back of his minds did he think 'oh, I'm in a kitchen now'.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were a series of screams –"FILTHY MUDBLOODS! HOW DARE YOU CORRUPT THE HOUSE OF BLACK! GET OUT! GET OU-"

"Jesus christ, can someone please shut that damn portrait up-"

And he guess the red-haired lady who came into the kitchen and saw him screamed, too.

\---------

It had been five days since they had found the fish person screaming in the room. Said fish person had been silent like someone who had killed two of his closest friends and, mid-angst, killed by one of said victims and then transported into some screwed up universe where highly advanced science was being used and-

Actually, wait, that's exactly what happened.

Eridan had been silent for five days now. It wasn't the language barrier – by some synchronicity of universes they spoke the same tongue. Even if they didn't, he wouldn't have had any hesitation into telling them just how he felt about being stuck in a house full of lowbloods.

It was more the fact that even if you're a high-blooded prince dreaming of genocide, killing the love of your life and the one person who listened to you complain is the kind of thing that will leave you moping around in your feelings. Considering that Eridan could mope around for ages when life was going smooth, giving Eridan actual major life problems was the equivalent of throwing a tub of propane on someone already burning to death.

"Well, we're going to need to get rid of that thing eventually, all he's done since getting here is bleed everywhere and lounge around all depressed." It was the gruffy, black-haired one saying this. Sirius, he thought. He had by now gotten a grasp of who was who around the house. You pick things up when you lay around long enough. The discussion going on right now was going on in the next room, and Eridan was at a good angle to pick up a decent enough visual.

"We can't just kick him out, he's just a kid. And look how skinny he is, I've barely gotten him to eat anything over the past couple of days." This was the red-haired one who found him first. Short, round, plump, had somehow managed to have six kids. "And anyways, if we just kick him out, there's a chance he could tell someone. We could always do an Unbreakable Oath, but he's so young…"

"Oh, you mean Eridan?" This was the bubbly one. She could change her appearance. Tonks. That was her name.

"Wait, he actually told you his name?" Scruffy blackbeard again.

"Yeah. He was a bit mopey, but I got him to smile, at least! Did you know I'm actually able to imitate those ear things of his? The horns were a bit much, but-"

"Wait, so he actually talked to you?"

Eridan still wasn't sure why he talked to her.

"He said I reminded him of a close friend he used to have. Some girl named Feferi. They have some strange names, but I guess I can't really talk since I'm called Nymphadora."

"Okay, you need to prove this to us."

Two minutes lately, Eridan was slumping sadly against the couch and the three adults – Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius were lazing in different parts of the room.

"Hey Eridan, how's it going?" Tonks said in that bubbly voice that reminded him way too much of a certain someone.

"Oh, hey there."

Thus began the cracking of Eridan Ampora.

\--------

"Eridan, can you tell me where you are from?"

"I don't havve to tell you that."

"We fixed you up and treated you kindly after you just apparated into our kitchen with your torso two cuts away from being torn in half. We'd like to know the story behind that."

"Rainboww drinkers. I think you call them vvampires."

"And the teleportation?"

"Hell if I knoww."

Eridan sighed. Apparently, this Lupin guy had been charged with finding out more about the new mysterious guest in the Black House. He had the kind gentle eyes and such of a trustworthy adult, but it took more than gentle looks to get the trust of Eridan Ampora. Great military leaders didn't trust, they commanded.

"Are you willing to tell me what you are, yet?"

"I'm a seadwweller."

Lupin sighed. Eridan knew exactly what was coming next. It was the question that he always followed this one up with, and the sheer cultural ignorance of it burned him every time.

"Yes, I understand you live in the sea, but what kind of seadweller? An off link of the merman, maybe?"

"Eridan appreciated the hospitality in this house. He just wished that they used proper water in their showers. Everytime he took one, the chlorine in it burned his skin.

Tonks and Mrs. Weasley bugged him about the purple bags under his eyes. They'd been pretty bad when he got there, and they just slowly got worse after having to sleep without a recuperacoon.

"Hey, Eridan, you okay?" It was Tonks.

"Yes, I am just glubbing perfect. Obvviously."


	2. Chaptedr 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eridan does stuff around the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably add an intermission later detailing some extra scenes form this yep. I feel like the development at the beginning of this whole fic is a bit rushed aaa
> 
> Just posting the chapter already posted on FF.net so long I WILL HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER SOON I PROMISE

"Eridan, you have enough magical potential to go to Hogwarts this year." Eridan had seen this old dude with the beard walking around the house for the past few weeks. He always had this dumb twinkle in his eye and his chin hair all tied up fancy. He had taken time out of his EXTREMELY BUSY schedule to talk to Eridan.

"I don't believve in any of that crap."

Dumbledore's eye did that freaking twinkle again.

"Well, you might be able to find out a scientific explanation for that. It seems to fit your forte."

Eridan thought a moment. It was a tempting idea…

"The only other alternative is to make you stay at this house until it's safe to let you out."

It suddenly became a very tempting idea.

"Wwell, when you put it that wway."

\- - - - - - - - -

There's this kid, Harry Potter, that Eridan keeps on hearing about. He has a lightning scar and apparently defeated some great Dark Lord and Eridan just assumes he must be something great. A possible future military leader, perhaps – he isn't sure if this society is military based, but he'd like to think so. And the fact that he landed in a secret conspiracy against some great power just enforced the idea.

When the kid first appeared in a hallway, all scraggly hair and green eyes and lanky figure, the bubbling of something angry rose up in Eridan. It wasn't the fact that the kid was weak though, it was just, well, Eridan had expected something so much more.

Some part of Eridan had been dulled by killing two people, and being killed himself. Yet, the whole unfairness of the fact that this kid, who had done fuck nothing except be lucky as a baby, and that he, Eridan, who had spent all his years killing to prevent being killed got absolutely nothing but a dirt amount of respect, something about this whole situation lodged something back together in Eridan's mind.

Eridan snarled across the room.

Not in a blackrom kind of way, tell you. It was in a roiling dislike kind of way.

Eridan felt a kind of pride in the look of shock that flashed across his face.  
\- - - - - - - - - -

It was unnatural. His horns were gone and his teeth were what constituted as 'normal' in this world and his skin color was awkward and peachy. The gills inside his rib cage hadn't disappeared completely, but in the form they were in now they were more similar to awkward ridges as opposed to something you could actually use to breathe underwater.

It wasn't an option so much as the potion was forced down his throat by the weird hook nosed guy. One of the new teacher apparently had a thing against 'subhumans.' If anything, the rest of them were lower than him.

There was still a few weeks until the school session even began, but apparently the potions guy didn't trust the kids in the house an inch to keep it a secret. They'd gotten into lots of trouble, Snape had said, and always dug their noses into anything that they found curious. And these were always things that weren't their business, he said.

Eridan tucked this away for future reference. It seemed like the kind of thing that would come in handy.

He got some last words from his loving potions master.

"Take two tablespoons daily. I'll refresh your supply monthly."

He stilled missed his teeth and horns and gills.  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Hey there, mate!" The big grin on the ginger's face taunted Eridan.

The troll had been trying to avoid the kids. Yes, this was immature, but if he was going to have to hang around dirty lowbloods for the next few days, he was going to hang around the ones with authority.

Unfortunately, these adults were busy with 'high issues' most of the time that children didn't seem to be allowed to participate in. Fortunately, there were several books on wizardly that Eridan could read in his free time. Though he didn't admit it was wizardly. It was all just intensely complicated science – wands obviously worked by some reaction of the ingredients, or some such thing.

However, while he didn't bother the kids, the kids often bothered in.

"Yeah, fishface, hello there!" The other one asked. The two kids were mirror reflections of eachother, and Eridan often wondered what kind of freak mutation caused such a thing. This anomalies didn't happen with trolls.

"Hey there." Eridan's eyes barely peaked above the book he was reading –The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One. While one of the children was supposed to give him lessons to catch him up to the proper grade level, he still wanted to do some studying on his own. No way was he going to be stuck in some wriggler grade.

"Hey Eridan, we got something for you."

"Yeah, it's something that your fish culture would love!"

The kids had believed Harry enough and heard enough from the adults through Extendable Ears to believe that Eridan was, indeed, a freaky fish man. The children made occasional jabs at conversation with him, though Eridan usually just quickly put his nose back in the book, though there had been occasional conversations.

After these two kids had been blown off the couple of times, it seemed they had made it their personal life mission to get a reaction out of him any way possible.

"Wwhat in the glubbing hell do you twwo havve now?"

A bucket of water splashed over Eridan. This was one of the tamer pranks that Eridan had had played on him over the past couple of days. The damage to his book could be easily repaired by having someone cast a spell on it and-

Wait.

It was a bucket.

Eridan went straight spined on the couch, goggling the obscene sex symbol that was now rolling around on the floor. The one that had just been filled with fluids and dumped all over him.

"Did a little water bother you that much? I see ways we can really take advantage of this in the future, don't you, George?" The two were grinning over the reaction on Eridan's face - maybe at this point they could actually get him to have conversations!

"Yes, yes I do, Fred."

"No, it's not the wwater you idiot! Wwhy wwould you throww something as obscene as buckets around on people, that is just disgusting and ovvertly sexual and oh gog just wwhy-"

"Buckets bother you that much?"

And the twins burst into a fresh round of laughter.  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Purple blood spilled out. It was just a few tiny droplets, barely enough to form a rivulet down his dry, no-longer-fishy hands.

Eridan had gone to one of the empty, unused rooms of the Black Manor to do this. It was just a sharp piece of glass in his hand – it was easy enough to find them in the unclean rooms. He actually choose one of the yet-to-tidied rooms on purpose. It seemed in human culture, cutting yourself had a negative connatotion, so he wanted to avoid someone walking in. He was a bit loathe to admit that he was anxious to leave – one of the cabinets in the corner was wobbling intimidatingly and he wanted to get away from it as quickly as possible.

All he needed to check was his blood color. If that potion had turned him into a dirty filthy lowblood, heads were going to roll and he would've found some way to start the genocide of this inferior race today.

Fortunately, beautiful purple flowed out instead of red. This would have negative effects later, when blood rolled out on the floors of Hogwarts school and he would be forced into a position of having to answer awkward questions; for now, though, he was pleased.

He soaked the blood off with his scarf - which was actually the only remaining part of his original ensemble. The rest was kind of blood-soaked after his initial appearance. Right now all he had were some horrible muggle jeans and some scratchy homemade sweater. The sweater was embroidered with his symbol, at least, so it had that going for it.

Eridan stood up to leave and get back to whatever nonsense was going on in the rest of the house. The time for school-shopping was approaching, and apparently some glubbing owls were supposed to come today.

The cabinet in the corner rattled angrily.

As Eridan ignored it and proceeded to the door, it burst open wildly. He discerned a small shape of some smokey creature, which greatly grew in size and started growing a radiation-hue green.

It had a sword through it's torso and the wings of a crow and the face of a hellhound and Eridan searched for his captchalogue deck on the off chance it still worked. The cards just scattered everywhere and-

"Eridan, why are you screaming?" And Tonks appeared in the door. Eridan just now noticed he was screaming frantically, and felt a blush of embarrassment as Tonks took a look at her cabinet, and simply rose a wand and spoke some strange word – ridiculous? - and suddenly Bec Noir was gone.

"Calm down, it's just a boggart. It'll be okay."


	3. In Which a Wand is Gotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day, y'all.

As much as Eridan was getting accustomed to this house, as much as he was thankful that he was allowed to stay here after arriving as a corpse, and yes, as much as this place was beginning to radiate some semblance of the human concept of ‘home’-

Well, despite all this, he still experienced the human concept of ‘homesick’.

It was stupid. He told himself this over and over again. It was stupid that he looked back on that stupid hellhole Alternia (he wouldn’t admit that he had liked it there) and even that stupid asteroid (he wouldn’t admit that he had a few good memories there) with the slightest bit of nostalgia. He was a prince. Princes didn’t need regrets or emotions.

He had trouble proving this to himself when he would curl up in some obscure corner of the house and reminisce on his life. Or past life. He wasn’t sure what to call it after having technically died.

He wasn’t going to admit that he missed anyone or anything. They all treated him like crap and called him a huge tool and rejected him and why on Earth would he miss them. That would just be nonsense.

He tried to tell himself that his favorite parts were when the memories rang out and his mind reached this blank level where all he heard were the far off whispers of horrorterrors and occasional glimpses of horrorterrors. Ignore the fact that he quickly went back to the memories.

He was simply reflecting and figuring out how his past experience would prepare him for the use of WHITE SCIENCE. He skipped around the parts where people died because…

Fun fact: Eridan isn’t good at rationalizing away his thoughts.

These mental excursions were often interrupted, though, since so much had been happening around this house recently. The Potter Kid (Eridan didn’t have enough respect for him to call him by name) had apparently gone to the Legislacerators. At least he assumed it was Legislacerators. Knowing humans, they probably had some stupid, not as good equivalent. That seemed to be a continuing pattern with humans – he still barely got any sleep in those idiotic beds. He was fine mentally, sure, but he swore that if he stopped taking the potion and allowed his body to revert back to its original troll form, it would be dry and pallid from lack of sopor.

Stupid lowbloods and their stupid household utensils and their stupid interruptions. Eridan had been mildly pleased when he found out that wizards had their own terms for lowbloods – muggles. Mudbloods. He wasn’t sure what they meant, but he liked the sound of it on his tongue.

The first time he had used it was during one of the millions of housecleaning sessions. While searching the kitchen with Mr. Weasley, some possessed toaster had shocked him – later, it turned out it had been caused by Mr. Weasley’s fascination with enchanting artifacts rather than any residue magic from the house.

“Stupid, glubbing, mudblood human bread desecrator,” Eridan cursed to himself, bashing it with the broom he had improvised as a weapon due to his current lack of a wand. “Lowblooded, hemospectrum tainter-“

“Eridan?”

Eridan glanced back, and was a bit stuck by how severe the father looked.

“I don’t want to hear any of those slurs coming from your mouth again. Blood has nothing to do with talent. Nothing at all.”

Eridan was a bit chilled with a tone, and was about to make an argument in his defense, but then the toaster sputtered back to life.

Then the Owls dashed through the window, supply lists and all.

It was a pretty chaotic scene amongst all the broom-whacking and owl flapping.  
\------------------------------------------

Choosing a wand had been surprisingly easy.

Well, maybe not easy, because it took about twenty wands until they obtained the right one, but the whole trial had desperately failed Eridan’s expectations. Trolls often went through several near-accidents and accidental hive damages before they found the proper strifekind that worked for them; wands were just a process of flick and dazzle.

Ollivander mumbled something about olivewood and mermaid hair.

Flick and some red shocks come out.

Oh no, that’s the wrong kind of result, Ollivander mumbles as he grabs the wand and thrusts it back. Magic coming out of a wand obviously doesn’t make sense! It has to represent you, and trust me, I know those things! I have experience!

And Eridan growled and he probably would’ve engaged him in blackrom, that’s how spiteful he was, except he was an old man so…no.

And another wand was thrust into his hand and something akin to mist came out; Eridan figured he was a seadweller, so the misty one had to be the right one, but no, Ollivander took the wand back and shuffled through the back, and mades ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’ fit for a bad x-rated film in the back of the room, and Eridan wondered who the crap made those sorts of noises while looking for wands.

Eridan sensed that the next wand was the right one, as opposed to find it out. Just the kind of aura it made –it was something a bit familiar. At first Eridan marked it up to the resemblance to the aura Doctor Scratch had, and figured that it simply reminded him of those strange conversations where he made overly cryptic remarks intended to ‘help him’ or some such thing.

Then no, that wasn’t it. Doctor Scratch’s aura still had the slightest amount of class. With this one, the aura was practically screaming.

Then Eridan remembered the screeching bestial angels, the bizarre twangs of their prophecies, and suddenly he can place it.

The wand is white and polished, and Ollivander mutters something about the rarity of these types of wands among wizards and something else about savants, but really, Eridan doesn’t want those thoughts dripping into his think pan.

He just looks at the wand and it is too familiar, and it doesn’t belong in this new life of his, he thinks. Ollivander describes it as ‘springy, light Maplewood with a threstal hair core’, but it’s familiar in an entirely different way to Eridan.

The wand releases a flourish of white light as Eridan waves it, and Ollivander lets out an approaching ‘That’s the one, yes.’

But Lupin and Tonks have already paid for it and well-

-well, there’s plenty of time to forget, Eridan figures.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys! I hope you're enjoying the fic so far - I enjoyed writing it in order to procrastinate on APUSH, herp derp. Anyways, I feel like this chapter is a bit off? So if you notice any problems just tell me!

The day had been spent getting various supplies that Eridan assumed were useless until they started to bite him or he saw it mysteriously move on its own. Whenever this happened, he’d chant the same mantra to himself.

Science. Science science it is science. There is a scientific explanation for all this somewhere.

Unfortunately, this voice was being slowly drowned out by another one exclaiming that magic was real. And if magic was real, well, it just bought back that stupid little spark of excitement he had when he was an idiotic little grub. If magic was real, he wouldn’t have to feel a bit of shame for liking it so much, he would flourish his wand happily and not have to disguise it with science and

Eridan stopped these thoughts because they were stupid. Magic was fakey fake and he would find a scientific explanation…eventually.

For now, he would just enjoy it and figure it out later. There was a perfectly good reason that that book just zoomed over his head.

After all, maybe this was a normal thing for bookstores to have. Flourish and Blotts was the only bookstore he had ever gone into – okay, there was a bookstore in the Land of Wrath and Angels, but he had been too distracted by the genocidal angels to do any browsing. Sure, the worlds were a reflection of their players in some aspects, but did it really have to possess the genocidal streak?

Anyway, to get back to the point, Alternia didn’t have much in the ways of getting books unless you were willing to kill a few people in a good FLARP. This made getting books inconvenient, but it never stopped Eridan from accumulating a good collection.

So Eridan pretty much squealed in excitement when he saw this huge library of books and all he needed to buy them was money. Or galleons. Or whatever weird wannabe-magic stuff they used.

Except he’d only been given about two gold pieces to use to buy books, and when he bought some he got a pile of silver and brown pieces and how the crap was he supposed to know what he could afford to buy. Eridan figured that this currency would be a lot more effective if they had little pictograms of the amount needed or something.

It had been quick to find the books, since he was a first year and the store owner had enough common courtesy to put those up in front for all the confused little first years. Not that Eridan was one of those or anything.

So now he was browsing the back of the shelves for some obscure topic because if he was going to become a wizard, he was going to become knowledgeable on everything, and he seriously doubted he would get to learn things like ‘A Study of something something Eridan had only paid attention to the Reversing Natural Death part of the title’ and ‘Ancient Runes Made Easy’, a book he had only been interested in because of the Alternian look to the runes on the cover.

He was still browsing for books that looked intellectual or big or interesting when he heard the chattering in the front of the store.

“Malfoy, I have better things to do than argue with you.”

Eridan had a secret love for seeing Potter angry. Not in a blackrom way, just in a platonic ‘I love to see you suffer’ way. His time at the House of Black had been interspersed with setting up small inconveniences. It had been worthwhile and Potter never suspected a thing until Eridan had started chuckling at every mention of one of Harry’s rants about said pranks.

Suffice to say, Eridan figured he would get along with this Malfoy kid. Enemy of your enemy and all that.

“Oh please, Potter, I know you have your ickle little scar, but now you think it’s enough to kick me out of the bookstore? Potter and his Weasleys and his mudbloods and his new little dirtblood friend.”

Oh. What did he just call him.

“Friends? With that wanker? From what I’ve seen, he’s a shoe in for Slytherin. He can be your problem.”

“Well, he’s already been tainted by your presence so I-“

“Excuse me, but,” Eridan had felt like this was a reasonable time for this interruption. As much as he loved seeing a human kismesis, this was an important point that needed to be clarified. “I am not a lowblood. If anything, you’re a lowblood compared to me.”

The glare from both of them Eridan received in turn showed that he had, once again, started off on the wrong foot with some Hogwarts student. That tends to happen when you tell a racist that he’s the lowblood.

\- - - -

The train had been surprisingly normal. Sure, the entrance through Platform Nine and ¾ was a bit strange, but it was easily explained away through the use of holograms and selective force-fielding. Both were commonly used in the Alternian fleet.

Eridan realized he wasn’t quite believing his explanations, but it was a force of habit by now.

He wondered what Fef would’ve thought about it-

Actually, wait, no, that’s a bad place for thoughts to go. Let’s think to a different spot. Let’s review knowledge, that’s worthy of a white scientist.

Like the passengers in this train compartment. It wasn’t completely packed, and the only person he remotely knew was Harry. His two compatriots had left to go to some ‘prefect meeting’. Ginny was there, but Eridan had managed to successfully brush off any conversations with her at the burrow. He looked at Neville and wow would that kid have gotten culled so hard if he were a troll.

The last one had seemed pretty unnoticeable until she started talking.

“Oh, this? This is the Quibbler. My uncle runs it!” Luna spoke. “There’s an interesting side article on Nargles, and I’d suggest reading it. It’s not quite as good as the runes, but some of them appear to not be quite working when I try them.”

“Oh, that sounds, interesting,” Ginny had awkwardly replied. Harry had kind of shifted his eyes and nodded, and Neville had let out a quiet ‘Oh’, and Eridan, being incredibly graceful-

“So, is that wwhy you’re glubbing reading the magazine upside dowwn?” Eridan had put a quite of effort into hiding his strange accent, but it still managed to come out when he was saying things that were just plain impulsive.

“Oh, no, it’s just the way the ruins are laid out. The greats who made them hid them upside to keep the Narcorns from being released, and-“

“Aren’t those mythical?” Neville warily asked.

“Of course not, they are just as real as the Rotfang Conspiracy. One of you can read from my extra copy, I always have one for advertising.”

Luna had such a serious grin on her face as she held out the magazine that it almost hurt.

Eridan did want to learn some powerful new spells, and if he had learned one thing from FLARPING, you often found the most useful things in the most unexpected places. Like a giant relic of your Ancestor in an old abandoned ship.

He hadn’t been influenced by her blue scarf, the one that represented Ravenclaw but that Eridan knew referred to highbloodedness. Maybe Eridan had just slightly wanted to gain the approval of a highblood.

Or maybe you know, just a friend, as this one seemed slightly bearable despite being a bit strange.

\- - - - -

The hat was on his head. The beginning of the whole Hogwarts thing had been okay – he had crossed the lake on the boat. He was pleased to see that there was a nice cornucopia of sea life. Nice magical scenery. Floating candles.

And then the sorting came.

Actually, no, it came before that. Rewind to about thirty seconds before Eridan was called up to the hat, and people were stirring in the crowd wondering why someone that looked at least fourteen years old – what were years, anyway? – was sitting among the first years getting sorted.

Eridan ignores it because he’s always been used to these kinds of snickers ever since he became so romantically desperate, and he’s almost over it and then, the hat. Black fabric is torn over his scalp and

There are whispers in his head. Eridan panics and it’s like Mindfang except he’s being forced to do it and oh god oh god oh god

-I would suggest you calm down a bit, I’m simply the Sorting Hat. I’m here to show what House you’ll go in.-

Eridan calms down, but there’s still a voice in his head, but now he’s curious. Secretly, he’s hoping for Ravenclaw, it’s the most highblooded on the hemospectrum, and is surely filled with the most intelligent minds.

-I assure you, the houses are fairly equal. And you don’t feel like a Ravenclaw. You do have a lot of knowledge, but most of it is from booklearning, and what we want in Ravenclaw is a good wit, the ability to think out of the box and think in ways nobody else does. –

Well, what is the hat saying then, that’s he stupid?

-No, don’t take it as an insult. All houses have their good aspects. You are a bit hard to narrow down. Mainly just having to dig through what is simply your culture and what is actually you.-

Just stick me into one with a good blood color, then.

-Most of them have red as a blood color. It’s a human thing. If you meant something high on the hemospectrum, then yes, I almost stuck you in Slytherin, but then I saw that ambition was something common for almost all trolls in there. You didn’t even go through with the whole genocide thing, despite a perfect opportunity with your friend’s lusus.-

It just wasn’t the right time, is all. I wanted to enjoy it, get to know them and figure out the best way of going about it.

-Why else didn’t you do it?-

Well, Fef wanted me to, for once, but that’s just because we’re moirails, there’s a bond between us. Well, was, I guess.

-Yes. And don’t forget your devotion to the hemospectrum in your society.-

Whatever. A lot of highbloods have that.

-No, Feferi and Vriska and Gamzee didn’t. And don’t forget about that thing with joining…Bec Noir, you call him?-

No, don’t you dare mention that.

-I see a bit of comradery in there, despite killing two friends. And that last part was mostly out of rage and impulsivity.-

No, stop it, don’t talk about it. That doesn’t have anything to do with anything I AM TRYING TO FORGET stop talking stop talking

-You wanted to bring some of them to join you in joining him, and you were willing to work for that despite that overwhelming fear you had of him.-

This is personal. Get out. Get out get out get out

-I’d say that takes a lot of loyalty, landing you in….

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The hat screamed. The tables cheered. Eridan sat on the chair, a bit more distraught than most kids look directly after the sorting. At least the hat is done, it has nothing more to say.

-I usually don’t mention these kinds of things, but it seems rather important.-

No. Shut up.

-There’s a small gap in your mind, and it’s a bit unusual. Whether it’s just your species, or that game, or something else, I can’t be sure, but it might be good to have it checked out.-

Eridan threw the hat back on the stool, and strode tensely towards the Hufflepuff table.

Stupid lowwblood mustardbloods.


End file.
